


scratched

by superwholocked_wizard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Gay, Harry Potter - Freeform, M/M, Poor Harry, draco doesn't know about them, draco doesn't know how to react, harry has scars, harry is only wearing a towel, mentions of abuse, poor boy, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 06:39:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10758792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superwholocked_wizard/pseuds/superwholocked_wizard
Summary: Harry hasn't exactly had the best childhood, or the best life for that matter, but the extent of such is completely unknown to draco who never saw the full effects of the abuse to which harry has suffered, so when harry walks into the room with nothing but a towel on his back, fully exposing the scars that litter it, Draco is almost speechless.





	scratched

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO I'M FUCKING BACK
> 
> sorry for the hiatus but drama exams and art exams
> 
> yup, damn i need sleep
> 
> anyway, leaving this drarry for y'all here
> 
> its gay, its on its way
> 
> sophie xx

The water that fell on Harry’s back scorched his skin to the point where it was barely pleasant, but it kept him awake. He had been running only on pumpkin juice for the past three days and merlin forbid it if he fell asleep again, letting the nightmares seep through his reality and encase him in sleep.

Every time his vision started to go blurry, he could feel the claws of sleep wrapping themselves around him, pulling him further and further into a lulled state of false relaxation, attempting to drag him back in.

If he could wake up from the nightmares, perhaps things wouldn’t seem too bad, the nightmare would pass and he could fall back into a peaceful slumber knowing those beefy hands were all the way back in Little Whinging, along with the talons that accompanied them.

The problem was, he never woke up. 

It stayed with him for days on end to the point where Ron might wave his hand a little too close to Harry’s face, and he would begin to hyperventilate, anxiety and fear settling over him like the lid of a coffin, stifling and final.

The first time Draco saw Harry do this, he had assumed that someone had mentioned something about You-Know-Who, which set him off, but eventually he realised that there seemed to be no correlation between Voldemort and Harry’s panic attacks, in fact he seemed almost calm when the terror was mentioned, whereas everyone’s eyes seemed to widen in fear and their breath would hitch dangerously.

Harry had slowly turned the tap off of the shower, perhaps unconsciously due to how his gaze snapped towards the now dripping shower head, which had left him cold and without any sort of warning of the ceasing flow of water.

He sighed, and reached for the towel which he had draped over the rod which supported the shower curtain, and yanking it towards him with vigour, for someone so tired he seemed to have an excess of energy.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, and gently stepped out of the shower onto the small mat at the foot of the basin.

His clothes were left in a pile at the corner of the room, crumpled and now slightly damp due to all of the humidity in the air, which hung like a threatening mist just above the tips of Harry’s hair

He leaned against the edge of the basin which only just supported the full weight which he seemed to have left to rest upon the inanimate object.

He sighed and let his head fall into his hands, and rubbed away the sleep which had accumulated in his eye. He rubbed his face, the stubble which he hadn’t bothered to shave gently scratched his hands, reminding him of how he must look to everyone save himself. The boy who lived, probably looked like death warmed up.

A crash sounded outside, snapping Harry out his dazed state. 

A scream, the hoot of an own.

“Merlin’s beard!”

Oh gosh what had Draco done this time.

Harry ran out of the bathroom, almost slipping on the damp floor in the process, into Draco’s dormitory, where glass was lying shattered across the floor, seeming to have come what used to be a cup, perhaps filled with water?

On the table where the cup had sat, stood a proud looking snowy owl with a letter resting between her claws.

Harry sighed and removed the parchment from Hedwigs claws, giving the owl a small stroke on the beak before watching her swoop from the table through the door and into the Slytherin, followed by a pair of screams and a distressed wail.

Harry chuckled and sat on the bed, the letter resting between his forefinger and thumb, gently twirling back and forth before setting it down on the side table, and turning to walk back into the bathroom.

“What in Merlin?” a gasp sounded softly from behind him, making harry stop in his tracks, and turn to face Draco, who’s face had gone completely white, almost to match his hair.

His eyes were wide and he had his mouth hanging open slightly, his eyebrows were closely linked, almost touching and he had a look of total shock framing his face.

“Harry, who did that to you?” Draco whispered slightly, trying to catch sight of Harry’s back again.

Harry felt himself stiffen, thinking back to how he seemed to have neglected the luxury that was a shirt in the chaos of the previous moments. And without a shirt, Draco would be able to see his scars.

The small lines that littered his back were varying, from fresh to old, each of them covering him from neck to lower back, each of them a little reminder of how he shouldn’t behave.

Professor McGonagall was surprised that he hadn’t developed an obscurus at this point, due to how much he tried to repress his magic, but never tried to pry into why he seemed to try and repress his magic so much. She knew what happened back in Little Whinging, but never the extent of it.

Draco slowly walked towards Harry, still with a slight look of shock painted across his features, yet not twinged with something else, something that harry had come to know well, pity.

Harry simply stood in that same spot, glancing every so often towards Draco and back to the floor which he had begun to wish would swallow him whole.

Draco finally reached harry and cupped his cheek, guiding Harry’s eyes towards his, that now were completely immersed with confusion and pity, flicking from one of the green orbs to the other.

“Harry, who did this to you?”

Harry sighed. 

Of course he knew that he would have to have this conversation with Draco at one point or another, it just was that he expected to be able to prepare a response before barging headfirst into his past, not have to deal with a rampant owl right after getting out of the shower.

He slipped past Draco and went to sit on the bed, the only noise in the room being the slight patter of wet feet padding along the floor.

Draco followed, and sat on the edge, only just close enough that, if necessary, he could get to harry if he needed to, but far enough to not stifle him.

Harry brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed them, waking himself up slightly, he really needed to sleep.

“The Dursley’s.” harry whispered.

Draco remained silent, encouraging him to continue.

“They didn’t like what I could do, how I did it or what I was, they just felt like… like it wasn’t normal, or wasn’t supposed to happen,” he took in a breath and continued. 

“They would punish me whenever something happened, in small ways but it still hurt, the scars were usually from Aunt Petunia, her nails were long and if ever she caught me doing something i wasn’t supposed to be doing she would scratch me, and the scars were a result of that.”

Harry sat there, expressionless.

“It went away after i got my letter, scared i suppose, that someone would find out or that i could defend myself using magic, but after i got the hearing at the ministry because of illegal use of magic they went back at it. They weren’t scared anymore.

Draco was shocked, he had always known about harry’s dislike for his aunt and uncle, but never how badly they hurt him, he had always assumed that they weren’t the nicest but this was taking it to another level.

“And if ever i got out of hand,” Harry continued, “they wouldn’t let me eat, so the healing process wasn't exactly the best, you need food for energy and energy to heal, and, i had none.”

Harry sat in silence, still looking towards the floor blankly, as if he expected it to do something but he had so far been let down.

Draco sat, letting the information settle, and connecting dots which had previously seemed unrelated. Harry’s panic attacks, how he always covered up, how he seemed to hate in when anyone mentioned his family or lack thereof.

Perhaps it was the fact that the information felt so sudden, or the fact that it made so much sense, but Draco felt speechless. All he could do in that moment was slowly scootch towards Harry, and rest his head on his shoulder.

The silence that surrounded them was not uncomfortable, yet not familiar to the two of them, with the soft sounds of conversation flowing from downstairs, as students chatted and laughed, yet in that room, the silence was absolute.

Perhaps the silence prompted it, or perhaps it was the small weight of Draco’s head resting on his shoulder, or even the lack of weight he felt on his chest, but whatever it was, it was a relief. 

Harry smiled.


End file.
